She flew past us almost hitting the glass sliding doors at the far end of the room before executing a one eighty, flying past us again on her trajectory out the room, down the hall and up the stairs.
For a brief moment I thought umm something's up her ass, maybe you should check up on her.
But, she's a cat, what can be the big deal? Probably got a case of leprosy. And so, without missing a beat, we continued eating.
So, I'm up here in the den checking out other peoples' blogs when Rod comes into the room. "Boy, somethin' doesn't smell right up here" he says.
Rod, of all people, notices something smelling bad, unheard of.
I have to say this is a first especially since I don't smell it. He says, "It smells like someone's had a dump." Immediately I know where to look. Aaargh, sure enough Poopy Butt Girl has struck again, depositing a gloppy, blob of diarrhea on my freshly changed duvet.
As I'm heading down the stairs on my way to the laundry room with duvet in hand I catch a whiff of poo as she runs past me in the other direction, no doubt to eager to rub the cling-ons (neologism: bits of poo stuck to someone's butt) on to my futon.
I throw her into the clink (the upstairs bathroom) so that she might consider the severity of her crimes against humanity and have a chance to clean her butt as penance, but, when I come to check on her, she shows no sense of remorse and has declined to tend to the matter.
Is she the cat's ass? A term described in the urban dictionary as: "A person, thing or event to be held in high regard. From the meticulous treatment and devotional attention a feline bestows on its hindquarters." Hah, no!
Does she have a cat's ass? Yes, but now it's sporting a summer butt clip.